


Escape from the Hazed Maze

by Morbus Aegraque Scribo (TheDarkFlygon)



Series: Morbulogy (Sickfics) [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fever, Gen, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Whump, Whump Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/Morbus%20Aegraque%20Scribo
Summary: He’s stuck on an unknown planet, dropped there during an assault by the Galra of the Castle. Thing is: he’s alone, he’s lost in an abandoned prison, and most of all, he’s sick with the flu.





	Escape from the Hazed Maze

**Author's Note:**

> Written as my part for Whump Exchange, and especially written for my match, writeyourlifeaway6.  
> The prompt provided was: “sick with no supplies and nowhere to go”  
> This is short because lmao never written for Voltron (and not planning on doing so again, there's plenty of other Voltron writers out there, unless it's a really good prompt), but I hope you guys like it nonetheless.  
> It's a bit cut short because I was on a 4-day long school trip between the beginning and the end of writing this fic. Ah, fluctuating inspiration.  
> I mean, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be (in fact, it was quite the pleasing break from Surprise Meeting with Fate), but I still feel like I've lost what made me a special whump writer by doing that.

It could always get worse and, well, in his life, it was always getting worse, one way or the other.

 

Truly, Shiro had no idea of how the situation had gotten this bad. It started with a cold, and everyone reacted the way he expected them to react: confine him to his bedroom “for the greater good and also his while they were at it”. It worked semi-well, despite the frustration it had quickly become because doing nothing was something he was very bad at (he’d even say he would always Fs in sleeping anyway).

But, of course, it _had_ to get worse. It had to transform into a bad strain of flu and everything bad that came with it: constantly runny nose, chest-wracking coughing, constant dizziness, occasional nausea and an unredeemable feeling of being hot and cold at the same time because of how frequently it changed.

 

It would have been bad enough if he had stayed in his room in the Castle, with the supervision of their trusty Coran and the care of all the members. To be honest, he would give a kidney just to see Lance and Keith bicker about something as pointless as who their favourite team in whatever sport they liked were, because it would mean he was home and somewhat safe.

Because, no, being all alone in some kind of prison planet where everything was abandoned in the skip of a heartbeat was not being safe when he had a killer flu.

 

He had to find something to do, and quick. He couldn’t wither away when his team needed him. Problem: his fevered brain didn’t allow for quick and clean thinking. Instead of, oh, he didn’t know, finding a way to contact the Castle for example, his mind was set to remembering terribly embarrassing memories of his time at the Garrison. He didn’t need to see himself pass out in the middle of setting an example to the younger classes because of a terrible case of sleep deprivation again.

Trying to push the embarrassment riding his brain aside to make room for something actually constructive, Shiro’s face met violently with a wall. God, that blurry vision was making everything worse and the dire cold of the abandoned place was making his already dysfunctional body temperature go on a hike to crazy heights.

 

Okay, he had to find some way to communicate with the Castle. It seemed like the device on his armour had been broken: he had to find an alternate way to find them. He wished that something as crazy as Katie slipping a tracking device on him just in case he decided to do his job as a Paladin instead of resting had happened, but it was probably just wishful thinking.

The place was, admittedly, rather creepy. The empty corridors were completely silent: while it had the advantages of not forcing him to fight with his robotic arm, since he absolutely didn’t have his Bayard on him, it was also eerie to walk through what would usually be beeping.

 

His dizziness swiped him off his feet and forced him to sit down in the last cell until the main corridor. It was the best time to observe what was around him, but his vision was getting too blurry to get a good look at _anything_ around him. He was getting sleepy too, but he couldn’t fall asleep just yet: he had to ensure his safety and his survival and, as such, find a way to communicate with the other Paladins.

A place study was in order. The place was ridiculously dark: in fact, only emergency exit lights were running. The only way he could tell his vision was severely unfocused was how the lights seemed to form blurry stains instead of narrow lines around the walls. It seemed like it had a bit of electricity left over, at least enough to maintain these lights turned on.

 

This was weird. Why would the Galra keep the lights on in an abandoned prison? It wasn’t like he had come across any sentry while exploring the place on his wobbly legs… Shiro couldn’t not be suspicious about the entire ordeal: an abandoned place running entirely on leftover, backup energy? It could be if they had deserted the place in a hurry, but…

Fuck. His brain was at it again with the feverish garbage: more embarrassing memories he wished he had forgotten about. More nightmarish stuff from his time in captivity. It wasn’t time to have an attack here and there: he was already having enough trouble breathing as is.

 

He needed to find the computer room. He may have a shot contacting everyone by using their communication system, or at least send a distress signal so the other Paladins would know he was there. After all, they were all on a mission when he got kidnapped and thrown into an abandoned cell: they must have come back by now, and they must be searching for him right as he thought that, sitting on the floor.

He got back on legs that felt like they were about to break under his weight, but he still resumed his search for the computer room.

 

The more he walked, the worst he was getting: his vision was nothing more than blurry stains of colour at times, his cough was getting bad enough for him to stop and lean against a wall until it passed, and the dizziness made walking a nightmare to go through. He truly had seen better days than this bullshit, that was for sure.

When his brain was getting too clouded to think about the situation properly, he just thought about how the other Paladins were amazing persons. He of course included Allura and Coran as part of them: they were all some kind of space family, right? Families stuck together (well, except in the case of Keith, he barely figured…), right? They would come to grab him.

He just had to warn them of his position, so he strengthened his legs and kept going, despite his throat hurting and feeling dangerously thirsty.

 

Eventually, Shiro reached the computer room, albeit not without being completely out of breath. His knees buckled up right as he entered, but he was there, and miracle: the electricity was still on. The computer was still turned on! Miracles were an actual thing that actually existed, and he had just witnessed one!

He carried himself as if he was an injured slug to the screen, trying his best to remember how to send a distress signal. If he wasn’t wrong, the rest of the team would search for him in nearby Galra planets: they wouldn’t have left this solar system without him. He just had to quicken their search by indicating where he exactly was: an abandoned prison where he was left to rot with no resource and the flu chipping away at his condition.

 

Fingers clumsily activated the panel. Trying his best to focus his swimming vision on the Galra characters he would usually wish he didn’t know, he tapped some things here and there, until he had found what seemed to be a device sending distress signals. Even if it was a trap from the Galra, he had no other way out: he trusted his team with saving the galaxy without him, just this one time, when he agreed to send the signal.

After he had done what he had meant to do to save his ass, he glided down the nearest wall as he waited for anything to happen. His vision was too busy swimming and his lungs had become a burning no-man’s-land: he had nothing left but actually wait for anything to decide if his sickness was ending him off, or if his teammates were going to help him out.

 

His vision turned to black right as his teammates entered the place, something he knew only thanks to their familiar voices. Despite the overwhelming weakness that took him over, he had a small smile appearing on his face.


End file.
